The Last
by dudeaga
Summary: This is a story about men- not in that way, you perv- but the heterosexual bonds of men. Men under the command of Mustafa, their stories, and their ending.


The Last

(A/N My first attempt at a more serious story. Please don't kill me. Also, cookies to someone who can spot the obvious Glengarry Glen Ross reference, Full Metal Jacket reference, etc. And if you can't catch it, you can't catch shit, YOU ARE SHIT, HIT THE BACK BUTTON PAL- BECAUSE THIS FUCKING STORY AIN'T FOR YOU.

Oh yeah, and I'm not a homophobe, in case you were wondering from reading the Summary. Geez.)

"THE DAY WILL COME WHEN OUR SILENCE WILL BE MORE POWERFUL THAN THE VOICES YOU ARE THROTTLING TODAY"- August Spies

Memory 1: Ending and Introduction

Mustafa knew it was going to end like this. There was no other way it could. Demoralized by Emmeryn's death, they stood no chance against Chrom's wrath and anger towards the Plegians. He was a man possessed, slashing through their lines with the frightening efficiency of a master tactician, the soon to be famous Robin. As they cut through his comrades, friends, brothers-in-arms, he felt that same old feeling. Guilt. Guilt for letting his comrades die, guilt for being unable to do anything, guilt for the fact that he was still alive and they weren't. He still had people to save, though. And that thought ran through his head as he breathed his last.

"Well done, Ylisseans...Hrrgggh! Please...spare my men..."

To think it was such a boring time just a while ago...

"What do you mean, VILLAGE PROTECTION? You're going to waste my trained soldiers on protecting villages nowhere near the war?"

"Not the troops you have right now, Mustafa. They're being moved to the front lines, where they will be under stronger, less pacifistic commanders. We can't afford to have such valuable assets like them under your control."

Damien was always rather antagonistic towards Mustafa. They were always rather different from the start. Damien was from a richer, more snobbish family while Mustafa was much more "down to earth," so to speak. They never quite saw eye to eye, and this was about the essence of their disagreements.

"They are MY men Damien, and you don't have the ability to lead them. All you are is a politician trying to play War Hero so you can come back and play god with the rest of the nobles."

"It's my squad now, you self-righteous arse. And I'll lead them to a much more glorious victory than you ever could, you pansy. I'm taking Thunder Squad away, you will be stuck with new soldiers drafted from the reserves, and that is that. I have permission from Gangrel himself, so there is nothing you could do to stop this."

Mustafa could only stare in rage at Damien as he left the room.

It was about a week later when Mustafa met the new troops. It took him about a week to make up his mind. He was a man, and no matter what troops he had, he would treat them with dignity and make them into soldiers, goddammit! He wasn't going to be angry or bitter over his old squad being taken from him (all except one), no. He was going to be a proper general, make them into proper soldiers, make them paragons of Plegian values.

These thoughts filled his head, causing him to walk with stride until he entered the room in which he was supposed to meet his new squad in full General armor and no one cared.

He quickly scanned the room. A Soldier, Archer, his good old Myrmidon carryover from Thunder Squad, Wilson, and what appeared to be a Trickster.

Damien really dicked him over. And that infuriated Mustafa.

"Let me have your attention for a moment. 'Cause you're talking about what? Talkin' about how you got stuck with this shitty job, how you never wanted to fucking get stuck on Village Patrol Duty, bitchin' about how you got drafted into the army? Let's talk about something important."

"Heh." A laugh shatters the seriousness of Mustafa's rage. It comes in the direction from the lone archer in the corner.

"You. You there. What's your name, scumbag?"

"Huh?" The tone of the voice confirms that it's the archer who laughed.

"Any fucking time, sweetheart."

"Harry, sir."

"Well fuck you Harry, because if you don't want to listen to me you can fucking go and farm. Funny guy? I don't give a shit. Good father? Fuck you, go home and play with your kids. You're on Village Patrol Duty now, so if you can't handle it-get the fuck out of this room."

That quickly shut Harry up.

"That's what I thought. Now, let's get down to business."

To those who knew Mustafa, people like Wilson, this was why he commanded respect. If you don't show him respect, he won't show you respect. He's fair to the point of it almost being a flaw-and that's what gained him the respect of his men. Once you got his respect by giving him yours, you were under the command of what had to be one of the best generals Plegia produced.

Possibly the best that they might ever produce. And this is the story of him and his men- through trials by fire, death, guilt, tragedy and the bonds that tie these men together. The bonds of being a soldier, going through hell with other soldiers, that tie them together as brothers-in-arms.


End file.
